A Life of Debauchery - Ch 1

Tags: incest, ped, Mg, sleeping, first time, public

Disclaimer: Didn't happen. Of course not. No way.

Recently, I moved into a new apartment. My internet provider in the area says they can’t get to me for a month, due to coronavirus-induced slowdowns of service. That gives a guy a lot of time to think about things. In my life, I’ve done plenty of stuff that should have got me beat up, disowned, broken up with, jailed, or at the very least, cancelled. I thought it’d be good to start writing them down, and just for kicks, putting them on the internet.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not writing this all down because I think my life is over. I’m in my mid thirties, I have a pretty healthy dating life (take that with a grain of salt if you want, considering I’m posting stroke stories on 7chan), and I have a cat that probably loves me very much. This is an activity that I can do with minimal internet connection that isn’t replaying a PS4 game for the billionth time. Plus, I’ll probably get myself off recounting the stories as well.

Today I’m going to talk about a particularly eventful trip my family would take to the beach every summer. Everyone on my Mom’s side of the family would meet in a town on the Maryland shore, usually over the fourth of July, and we’d spend a week hanging out, eating good food, going to boardwalks and the like. In my family, it was just me (20), my parents and my older brother, John (21) .but my Mom’s sister had a much bigger family: there were three boys: Mark (16), Andy (15) and Jr (13); and two girls, Maxine (16) and Allison (12).

We would all stay in a much too cramped beachhouse (which I would later find out is insanely overpriced during the on season), usually on an assortment of fold out beds and blow up mattresses. All the boys would generally stay on one floor, and the girls would take a bedroom for themselves. It was usually never a big deal since we’d only go to those areas to sleep, since the days were either filled with being at the beach, playing board games in the kitchen, or watching movies in the living room.

Over several seasons (as well as subsequently family gatherings), I had found myself growing sexually attracted to Maxine and emotionally attracted to Allison. I would fantasize about plowing Maxine, stuffing my cock in her mouth, breaking her, etc, while I would also fantasize about being Allison boyfriend, taking her on dates, making out in my car, that sort of thing. I know that should be flip-flopped--or rather, Allison should be off the table in general. But, the heart wants what the heart wants, and I wanted (of course in complete secrecy never to be revealed to my family) her little hand in mind.
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First writing, please be kind.

Beguiling K.Lee


Hi, My name is Kaylee! A pregnant newlywed of 18 years. I have a story so fantastic that anyone in their right mind wouldn't believe me. It starts 6 years ago. Well, it really started 26 years ago when I was 22 years as Kelly Lee. A man just graduating from college. See! I told you that it's hard to believe.

You see, I'm a scientist and evidently a very good one. When I was young I was raised by my grandparents because of a car crash claiming my parents lives. Growing up with my grandparents I learned what it's like to get old. I always had an interest in how things worked and am really exceptional in chemistry so when I went to college I first studied medicine but found I preferred research instead. My grandparents were able to see me through college but died shortly after my graduation. I was left alone inheriting my grandparents estate as well as my parents estate. I became a research assistant while at college and continued with the same job at a large pharmaceutical company after graduation.

But my real interest is in aging and so I found myself at home devoting all of my time in that pursuit. This left me no time for dating and I just settled on being content with my personal research. After many years of studying cell breakdown which causes aging I found a combination of proteins and antioxidants that actually reverses cell degradation and stimulates the cell regeneration process. I discovered this step to be easiest of all the steps. The body does this naturally each month replacing the body's cells with new cells. DNA determines how the cells are replaced using stem cells. I just provide the DNA with the instructions and accelerate the process. You may have read some of my published articles that I've written in science and medical publications. This is an entire body regrowth every month making the body immortal if desired. The moral implications though are staggering.

The next step was to control at what stage of life to stop the accelerated degeneration process. It was also this step that provided opportunity to eliminate some genetic precursors that damage health. Eventually I found that taking this step to near conception most optimum for stability and health of the body. Starting with two or six cells is easier to manipulate then billions. Fortunately by adding certain proteins to the body I was able to accomplish this but finding a procedure to introduce the proteins at the correct time eluded me for a few years. My patients usually didn't survive without a host to supply nutrients to the immature body. This required placing the patient in a bath with proper nutrients. Patients introduced to the bath were sedated to allow them to breathe the liquid negating the drowning defense mechanism of the body. The oxygenated bath was fed nutrients by computer automati Message too long. Click here to view the full text.

So I've posted 2 of my short stories on another website that got no real response, probably due to the content or just how slow the website is. Anyway I was inspired to write these by another author who goes by Sirka and focuses on Futanari mixed with some Cock Growth; mostly with established characters. I liked one of his stories so much, I attempted to write something in a similar vein. I hope I'm doing this right, and enjoy.

Amy gets Cocked
Tags: Futanari/Dickgirl, a little pregnancy, old woman/young woman, cock growth, foreskin, short urethral sounding.

Sitting in the quiet bathroom stall, she felt like her back was against the wall; literally and figuratively. 5 months pregnant with nowhere to turn to; Amy felt lost and confused on what her next best course of action should be. “Well that's the last masked orgy I'll ever attend” she said to herself gloomily. “What's the matter girl?” a matronly voice said suddenly from the nearby stall; spooking Amy. who had thought the bathroom to be deserted. “Having to make a difficult choice?” the voice came through a hole in the stall that Amy hadn't noticed before. “Something like that, yeah.” Amy replied, not really wanting to get into her life's story with a stranger in a bathroom.
“What if I told you that I could...help you with your little problem? Maybe kill two birds with one...sausage, I guess? You kids and your silly sayings.” The voice replied, confusing Amy even more.
“Do you run a clinic that doubles as a restaurant? If so, sure I'd love to stop by sometime.” Amy said somewhat jokingly. “Is that a yes I hear?” The voice asked intently. Amy sighed. “Sure, sure, what's the place's number? Amy said as she started reaching for her phone. Halfway through her purse, Amy started to feel...off. It felt like she was having the start of a stomach ache but at the same time having the urge to relieve herself. Thankfully I'm already on the toilet. She thought as she grabbed some toilet paper and prep'd herself. What she couldn't prepare herself for was when her stomach started to flatten right before her eyes. It's not due for a few more months! Plus shouldn't I be in pain? She thought, perplexed as the ache in her stomach quickly lessened while her urge to urinate increased along with a strange feeling of bloatedness she didn't recognize. Looking up, she noticed a small tent in her skirt that seemed to be rapidly growing larger.
“Ahh, looks like your coming along nicely dear.” The voice said approvingly from it's hole in the stall. “What's happening? What did you do!?” Amy spat accusingly at the occupant of the other stall as the tent started pitching pass her skirt, revealing itself to be a wobbly flesh-colored tube.
“Fixing your problems girl, just like you wanted. Now you won't have to worry about being i Message too long. Click here to view the full text.

Tags: Incest, Spanking, Analingus, Mf, ff, (Future Mff)


Part 1

It’s hard to believe that tomorrow makes fifteen years since the day that things changed for my sisters and myself. My parents were going to Hawaii for their twentieth wedding anniversary and they had left me in charge of the house and had told my two sisters Milly and Maddy the night before at dinner that while they were gone my authority was absolute and my word was Law around the house.

It was the second monday of summer vacation and I awoke to the smell of blueberry muffins. After glancing over at my alarm clock, I momentarily wondered what was going on. My parents’ flight had been scheduled to depart at 5:30 that morning, and since my alarm clock told me that it was 10:37, my parents had to be somewhere over the Pacific Ocean at that time. That left my sisters as to the reason I was smelling muffins. The problem was my mother didn’t like my sisters to use the stove because they almost always left a huge mess afterwards that she had to clean up after they left the kitchen. I sighed and got out of bed to see what mischief Milly and Maddy were up to.

After throwing on a pair of biking shorts and a tee shirt, I always slept in just my jockey shorts, I went downstairs. I pushed open the kitchen’s swinging door and walked into what looked like a white hurricane had blown through the room. There was flour all over the counters and stove, as well as on the floor and the kitchen sink. The sink held a half-dozen mixing bowls, plastic spatulas, and various other batter covered utensils. There were two muffin pans filled with muffins sitting to the left of the stove and an open tub of butter sitting in front of the pan. Four muffins were missing from the pan on the left and standing about three feet away from the pan stood my sisters; each of them buttering the two halves of a blueberry muffin, their clothes dusted with flour.

Before I say anything more about what happened after I walked into the kitchen and my sisters‘ mess, I think I should give a bit more context to what the situation was here. It was June 26, 1996; just a little over a month until my eighteenth birthday. Milly was thirteen and Maddy was twelve, and both were as rambunctious as redheads are supposed to be.

I think I should give a bit of background on myself and my sisters before I go any farther in this story. The three of us were something of a mystery to our parents. There had been no redheads on either side of the family for generations, and yet all three of our parents’ kids had red hair. (Trying to figure out where our hair color came from was one of the main reasons why I chose a career in genetics when I went off to college after I turned nineteen.) Our parents were also a bit unusual when it came to naming us as well. For instance, I was named after my parents’ favorite actor and my middle name is my fathe Message too long. Click here to view the full text.

Alright folks, this will be coming out in parts.


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My father Eamon had been IRA, during the troubles. He had met my mother Teagan defending a town from the INLA in the late 70s. She had, at the time, been only 16, while he had been 20. Her family had fed him and a few other fighters following a firefight. Her red hair, Da had said, was the brightest thing he'd seen, and her blue eyes "bore straight through his soul". That night she'd met him in secret and they made love for the first time.
They would later marry, and had me, their bouncing baby boy Ronan in the late 80s. My hair as black as Da's and my eyes a bright green. My mother had unfortunately developed a brain tumor when I was 8 and passed away shortly after it was discovered. Da was despondent for months afterward.
As a result of all of this, I grew up with a strong respect for and knowledge of firearms and Irish culture and history, as well as some knowledge of military and political workings. I also grew up valuing every day, knowing that it could be my last. I grew up listening to all kinds of music, and found myself especially enamoured with the gothic subgenres, and later the industrial genres in my teens. I wore business casual clothing and a deathhawk, and Nora, a girl I dated in high school had begun to get me wearing eyeliner. My father simply shook his head. He didn't care so long as I kept my grades up and stayed in shape. I hung around a few local clubs in my late teens and even DJed at one, briefly.
I ended up pursuing a career with the Defense forces, owing largely to my father's training, and worked my way into the Sciathán Fiannóglaigh an Airm(Army Ranger Wing), where I quickly became an accomplished sniper and travelled around the world a bit on some peacekeeping missions and joint task forces.

It was in Afghanistan that I met one of the most beautiful women I'd ever seen. I'd sat down at a table at one of the many bases after an astoundingly tough night op. I was sore and exhausted, having spent hours laying stock still with my rifle in hand followed by another hour of constantly providing cover fire and dodging haphazard return fire, switching positions to keep those fuckers guessing. It had ended with an RPG hitting a half-broken floor below me and collapsing supports...and then the floor I was crouching on at the time. While I hadn't broken anything I had taken a single bullet graze to the side of my then-bald head and my uniform, as a result of the collapse, was absolutely caked in desert dust and abdobe and a little bit of blood on the shoulder. I wanted a dram and a hot meal and sleep. I had at least been able to secure a bowl of soup. A woman with Canadian uniform had walked in, sat down across from me, and pushed a flask of Jameson's in my direction.
"You look like hell." She'd told Message too long. Click here to view the full text.

Hey dudes, I wrote this on 4chan while requesting something on /r/. It's written in 4chan style, with the main character as Anon Ymous, but it's basically a Mills & Boone. That means it takes a fucking AGE to get to the juicy bits. If you like nosex give it a go!

It's half finished at the moment, but I haven't stopped at a cliffhanger, there is some resolution.

Tell me what ya think. :)

~~~

Be me in highschool. Tall, awkward, wiry. I was never sure why Nicole sat next to me in business class but I was glad she did. She was a year older than me, and I was considered a gifted child so while I took the advanced courses she took the remedial, that meant we had a lot of classes together.

We became friends, I can't say for sure what we talked about or what we had in common, but we passed notes during quiet time and hung out on morning tea break. Thinking back to those times is like watching a silent film, I can see our lips moving, the motion of her laughing, but I can't hear her voice. Green eyes, freckles, red hair. Her image still flashes in my mind when I masturbate. I can't pinpoint the exact moment when I realised, but at some point in the early 2000's, a teenaged version of me realised that Nicole Fisher was going to be his first.

"Hey, do you wanna have a threesome?" It was probably around when she said that. I remember turning red, dropping my pencil and staring at her like a frightened animal. I don't remember saying anything in response, but she pressed her hand against my shoulder and said, "With me and my boyfriend!"
I shook my head. What was she saying?! She was a year older than me, she said her boyfriend had a huge dick! What if I embarass myself? She's just saying it to make fun of me. Thoughts like these turned over in my head and I kept quiet. I'm not old enough to have sex anyway.

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This is the first half of the second tale in the "Mikey and Me" story, in which we meet Katie, a girl in Josh's neighborhood.

Tags: bg, preteen, viol, nosex

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Katie Part 1

“If you can strip me, you can take me.”

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I'm sure she said it.

Word for word. Just like that. I heard her.
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This is my first attempt at starting a story on here. I've tried a few things on Fiction Press, but not quite this depraved. I'm inspired by some of the examples here (especially Roommates), so I thought I would give it a try. I don't pretend this is that good. I'm not even sure that I'm posting this right.

Chapter 1

I turn to move past Hayley McSween in the hallway connecting the kitchen to the dishwasher in the restaurant serving St. Edmund’s Country Club. With a hand on my chest, she lightly pushes me into the door for the stockroom. “Can you close for me tonight? I want to go to the mall with from friends.” Her fingers trace from my chest to my belt buckle suggesting a possible compensation for my sacrifice.

I am Kyler … Kyler Jakubowski. At nineteen years old, I scrape, borrow, and force my way through my sophomore year in bio-premed at Stony Brook University on Long Island. Straight A’s so far – lookin’ good. It may be mercenary, but I will do just about anything to endure this crucible for that glimpse of wealth I see at the other end.

I live in a cramped, non-air-conditioned attic apartment of an ancient home that I rent from some old couple – Mr. and Mrs. Watson. With its back staircase access, I never have to see them, if I don’t want to. They’re okay, though – always waving to me and baking me stuff. Back in the day, the house was an old whaling captain’s home, so I have access to a little glass room above the attic. His wife could watch for his ship to return. No lie – it’s called a belvedere.

My college is on Long Island, but my savings account is strictly Schenectady. It was a lot easier to afford the $300 monthly rent before my roommate, Freddie Steffanaur, was expelled for copying an entire term paper, verbatim, from an internet site – for the third time. What a fuckin’ jackass.

Which is why, when Hailey McSween asks me to close for her at work -- I’m tempted to say, “Yes” without delay. I can use the extra hours, even though I have a shitload of homework – I can fake it through Statistics, but Orgo is getting pretty tough. I’m lying -- even though Hailey’s only sixteen, she is smoking hot with reputation to spare. I’m always happy to do her a favor … just in case it could lead to something.

Ah shit, who am I kidding? That’s just living out one of my masturbation fantasies. With a healthy allowance, she doesn’t need the job, but her parents think it builds character. I’m glad I enjoyed a few seconds of that delirium before answering because she reaches down and traces my stiffness from the outside with just one finger, and it drives me senseless, “I can make it worth your while.”
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This is the first story I've ever started that I've finished and posted. Hope some of you enjoy!

Mgg, teenagers

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Last Saturday started out like any other day at the Happiest Place on Earth with my nephew and son, but it turned out to be one of the strangest days of my life.

I live in the Los Angeles area, a good distance away from Anaheim but close enough to Disneyland to justify having an annual pass for my 3-year old son and myself. Long days and nights at the parks used to be among me and my wife's favorite things, before she lost her mind and left me a little over a year ago.

Anyway, last Saturday. My brother Bill, his son, my son and I were at Disney for no real reason. You don't really need a reason when your admission is already paid for. We had been on a few kiddy rides, and I had let Bill escape and ride single-rider on a few rides while I watched the kids. Bill returned from Space Mountain and returned the favor, sending me away with a Fast Pass for Indiana Jones.

If you're not familiar with how lines at Disneyland work, here's the run down: they suck. You can either wait one to two hours in the normal line, or get a Fast Pass for one ride at a time that lets you into a special line where you might only wait 15 minutes. The catch is you usually have to wait an hour in between Fast Passes. So, you generally aren't going on more rides, you just waste your time in more entertaining ways than standing in endless lines.

I strolled into the Indiana Jones Fast Pass line, not in a hurry to get back to Toon Town and see another costumed stranger give my nephew a high-five (my kid won't talk to them, he says they have creepy eyes.) I caught a few glances of the pair of women ahead of me, wearing matching crop tops and yoga pants, while winding our way through the unused portion of the ride queue. Since my wife left so unexpectedly, I hadn't dated or even really tried. But that didn't mean I didn't appreciate the sight of a well-toned thigh in tight lycra.
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This is one chapter of a larger work in progress. The plan is a series of vignettes based upon my real life experiences as a preteen. The chapters will be connected by an overarching thread. Word count on this chapter is just short of 7,500. Comments are welcome. Could use an editor.

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Mikey Part 1

“Come to church with me. We'll get laid.”

Jeez, where did it start with Mikey?
Church, I guess. Ain't that ironic?
See, Mikey was home-schooled so he didn't know any of the in-school kids I knew, except those who lived near us. That's how we met. Hanging around the neighborhood playground park.
But he wasn't lonely. His Mom was like super-religious, and their family hung out with a big church-going crowd that I didn't know.
When I say Mikey's Mom was super-religious, I mean not only was he not allowed to cuss, but he couldn't even use “soft” cussing like “Gosh darn!” or “Golly Gee” because those were all really Jesus' name, disguised sort of, but still very much taken in vain. Which was a sin. So he had no language stronger than saying “Wowwee!”
But as strict as she sounded, she was always really nice to me when Mikey brought me over. She helped us set up a little clubhouse by cleaning out a tool shed in the yard, and she furnished it with blankets and pillows in case we wanted to nap. She even suggested a name for our club. “How about 'The Golden Knights?'” We didn't adopt that, or any other name. We were just "us friends".
I was, like, two years older that him, maybe. I think two grades ahead, but I don't really know how grade levels work for home schooled kids. I found the younger kids easier to hang around with than those my age or older. The big kids were always trying to be cooler and tougher and braver and I just didn't want to deal with that. I was no good at it. The younger kids were easier to deal with. I didn't have to try to be cool. Me just being a year or two older made me cool enough in their eyes.
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